


Glowing in the Dark

by sillylittlemuggle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, MWPP Era, My First AO3 Post, yes I stole Coldplay lyrics I'm sorry okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillylittlemuggle/pseuds/sillylittlemuggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius' thoughts on the boy who glows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glowing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This is a drabble that I got too invested in.

You think he is magnificent. When he’s just woken up and his hair is mussed and his eyes are sleepy and he quietly mutters, “Morning Sirius”. When the sun’s light begins to trickle into the dormitory, his hair and eyes and skin, all suddenly begin to glow. He’s glowing.

But that’s not to say he’s not magnificent during the night. You know he hates the darkness, for it reminds him of the creature that lurks within him. But when the moon’s eerie light shines upon his face, you think he looks ethereal. 

But when he asks you -

“What are you looking at, Padfoot?”

You have no reply.

Because how are you supposed to tell one of your best mates, a male best mate, that you just so happen to be in love with him?

“Oh, hey Remus. Look, um... I was just wondering, if you’d like to..., you know..., if you’re not busy...., maybegotoHogsmedewithme?”

No, you can’t tell him how you feel. It’s not for fear for a harsh, possibly violent, reaction. Remus would never do that to you, to anyone. He’s a ridiculously nice – no, wonderful – no, amazing, person and he’d simply looks you in the eye, smile and then say –

“I’m sorry Padfoot, I...I’m not like that you see. It’s okay though, I hear lots of boys our age are... like that. We can still be friends though, of course we can. I trust you Sirius and I really do like you, as a friend. Just not.... that way.”

He wouldn’t shout or yell or scream or punch you.

“You disgusting little faggot! Get away from me, you piece of filth. Dirty, nasty, little poufter!”

Remus isn’t like your prejudiced, bigoted family. He’s a million, no a billion, better than the whole rotten lot of them. You actually feel guilty for even thinking of comparing Remus to them.

Remus is kind, smart, loving, and good.

Everything you’re not. 

You don’t want to ruin your friendship with him; you don’t want to lose him. So you push your feelings down, somewhere where they can’t torment you anymore. Then you let the jokes and the pranks and the firewhiskey cover everything you might have felt.

You think you’ve gotten better now. It’s been a few months since you’ve tried to forget about your feelings and you’re doing okay. You no longer search for an excuse to touch him; you’ve stopped staring while he dresses in the morning. Instead, you focus on other, more mundane things. Your grades rise considerably, you think of new nicknames for Professor McGonagall and your pranks become more creative, more adventurous. 

It’s while executing one of these pranks, where you get the shock of your short, sixteen-year old life. You’ve just finished running away from Filch. Prongs and Wormtail have the map; they’re somewhere in the dungeons of the castle, transfiguring dungbombs into green and silver ties. 

“I’ll get you hooligans next time!” Filch wheezes out, right outside the broom cupboard you and Remus are currently hiding in. Together. 

Remus lets out a rather un-manly giggle. It’s infectious and soon, you’re both holding your sides, trying to muffle your laughter with your fists. Filch may be gone but that ugly kitten of his enjoys prowling the corridors, especially late at night. You and he are completely squashed together within the small, cramped broom cupboard. You think you can hear his heartbeat, if you carefully strain your ears. You’re almost certain that he can hear yours, with it thumping so loudly within your chest. You suddenly become aware, that, no, those feelings you tried so hard to banish, have not gone anywhere. If anything, they’re back with a vengeance.

“Alright Padfoot?” he questions. One eyebrow is raised and under the slight confusion, you can see, sense, his excitement, the thrill of getting away. It makes both your hearts pump faster.

“Fine, just fine”, you manage to stammer out. “Just glad we got away.” 

“Is the great Sirius Black nervous?” he says with a smirk.

You freeze suddenly. He can’t know, surely he can’t. You’ve been careful, subtle, making sure none of your fellow marauders realise why you’ve been acting a bit odd lately. But then, why does he look so smug? You’re sweating profusely now, trying to stay calm but failing miserably. You try to back away from him, afraid of what will happen if you don’t but you end up hitting your head off a previously unseen shelf.

“Padfoot”, he says laughing. “It’s okay”.

And then it happens. The thing you've been dreaming about since fourth year, back when Peter still believed the Fat Lady was Salazar Slytherin in drag. It’s too hot in the dark cupboard and you’re both sweaty and he has a smudge of what looks like fudge on his collar. But it’s finally happening, he finally knows and you can’t really bring yourself to care.

“Come here, you idiot”, he says before placing his lips on yours. He tastes sweet, like the apple pie you all had for dessert. You slowly but surely begin kissing him back and the only thought in your head is, “well, fuck, this is fucking fantastic”.

Once you finally stop kissing, you gently place your forehead against his.

“So how long have you known, then?” you ask, only slightly breathless.

“Couple of months”, he replies, with a low chuckle. “Why didn't you tell me Sirius?”

And because you really have no idea why you ever kept your feelings secret, you kiss him again, hard, hoping he doesn't pick up on your desperation to keep kissing him, until both your lungs cry out for air.

“I really, really like you Remus”, you suddenly blurt out. 

Even though he probably already knows this, since he’s been sucking on your face for the past half hour.  
But you feel like you need to tell him, to finally say it out loud. Because you don’t really like him, you love him and even though you've seen Remus glow before, right now, you’re glowing in the dark. Together.


End file.
